Break My Heart
by SiempreYParaSiempre
Summary: "I didn't even look up at the light tap on the door.  I knew who it was, and I knew he'd let himself in in about three seconds time."  Bella's just had her heart broken...  Can her best friend help her to fix it? B&E, of course. Mostly in-character.
1. Chapter 1

**This is just a little one shot. I will probably extend at some point, maybe a lemon... But for now...**

**I thought of this while walking my dog. It was a little fantasy/daydream, and, for once, I decided to do something constructive with it, instead of keeping it in my head.**

**I hope you like it. Please R&R.**

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**BPOV**

I didn't even look up at the light tap on the door. I knew who it was, and I knew he'd let himself in in about three seconds time.

I tried to wipe the tears from my cheeks, but it was useless. More kept coming. I knew my eyes would be puffy and red; I'd been crying for the best part of an hour now, with no sign of the tears stopping, or even pausing for the briefest second, in the near future. I tried to even out my breathing, but the air hitched in my throat; when I exhaled, it was shaky and ragged.

As predicted, the door swung open cautiously, and Edward stepped in, shutting it behind him. Since I purposely had my back to the door, he couldn't see my face, which bought me a few precious seconds.

"Hey, Bells. Not going back tonight?" he asked, casually, as he came towards me. I couldn't see him, but I could hear his shoes squeaking on the cheap linoleum. I could have had wood, or even carpeting, but I didn't see the point. I only come in here on my occasional breaks (the ones when I'm not reviewing the script, chatting with castmates—mainly Edward or Angela—or smoking) and nights like tonight. We didn't finish shooting until gone two am, and I had to be back in hair and make-up by five thirty. The thirty minute drive to my hotel just wasn't worth it.

I knew my voice would betray me, so I just shook my head.

He came up behind me, but I didn't turn my head. I remained curled up on the couch, staring resolutely ahead. "Me, either," he commented. "I guess we're the only ones, aside from Carlisle."

Carlisle, our director, never went back to his hotel, it seemed. Even if we had the gift of twelve or so hours off—all of which, for me, were spent either eating or catching up on some much-needed sleep.

I think he liked the privacy. The quiet.

I wish I had that luxury. I got screaming fans and paparazzi everywhere I went. Just because I knew what I was letting myself in for didn't mean I liked it.

Edward came around the couch, going to sit on the other end. I knew the exact moment he saw my face. All the air left his lungs in a _whoosh_ and he froze, his eyes fixed on me.

"Bella, what the fuck?"

But he knew. I knew he knew. He didn't have to ask. His eyes flicked to my Blackberry, which was still clutched in my right hand, then back to my face.

"Oh God, Bells..."

The pain in his voice caused another ragged breath to hitch in my throat, coming out as a broken sob.

He sank down, sitting on the other end of the couch, facing me with a pained and worried expression. "What can I do? I'll do anything. Anything to make you happy again."

**EPOV**

I walked towards Bella's trailer after everyone else had gone back to their respective hotels. I didn't see the point, personally. Most of us—including me, Alice, Seth, Emmett and Angela, but excluding Bella, Emily, and Leah—didn't wrap for the day until nearly three am, and I knew Alice, Angela, and Emmett, at the very least, had to be in hair and make-up at the same time as Bella and I: half-past-five.

There really was no point, but it was their call, I guess.

I wondered what Bella and I would do tonight, if she wasn't already asleep. I doubted it. No matter how tired she was, she'd stay up that little bit longer to talk to me, or to hear me play a few songs for her on my guitar, before eventually bidding me good night and getting some much-needed sleep.

Not that I didn't need the sleep, but she would always come first. What Bella wanted, Bella got. Without question or discussion. It was automatic; I couldn't tell her no.

I knocked, but she didn't answer. That didn't bother me; it was rare that she _would_ answer. She was always listening to her iPod, earphones in and music cranked up as loud as I could go. By now, she kind of just expected me to let myself in, but I always knocked first, even if she couldn't hear me. The only time I _hadn't_ knocked, she had been butt-naked, and dancing around to _Pour Some Sugar On Me_. I would never make that mistake again.

Not that I didn't enjoy the view. I did. A lot. It's a memory that replays in my mind, over and over, every time I shut my eyes. And even sometimes when I don't. So, no, it wasn't that I didn't enjoy the view.

It was that...she wasn't mine.

There. I said it.

She wasn't mine, and it was hell having to see her—the girl I wanted so badly it hurt—so very naked, and know that I couldn't do a damn thing. I couldn't tell her how beautiful she was, or how much I wanted her. I couldn't hold her, or touch her, or love her like I wanted to.

I had to smother those feelings, and continue being her best friend. I could do that, just so long as I didn't have to see her naked. Or see her with her boyfriend. He was nice enough, and Bella loved him, but it was really a bit much to ask of my self-control.

I took a deep breath to clear my head, then stepped inside. Bella was sitting on her beat-up, midnight blue sofa with her back to me.

No iPod. No headphones.

Was she asleep?

"Hey, Bells. Not going back tonight?" I asked, casually, as I walked toward her. I flinched a little at the sound of my Adidas on the linoleum—an annoying, tapping squeak. I have cheap carpeting in my trailer, but I understood her reasoning behind choosing standard linoleum. I only used my trailer on my occasional breaks (the ones when I'm not reviewing the script, chatting with Bella, or smoking), and the odd night when Bella came to me, instead of the other way around. I guess, since Bella used her trailer about as much, she decided the carpeting wasn't worth it.

She didn't speak, or turn to look at me. She just shook her head.

Was she mad at me? No, I didn't think so. Bella wasn't the silent type. If I had pissed her off, I would know about it.

Something had to be wrong. Was it her dad? Her mum? One of her brothers, maybe? I didn't know her family well, but I had met them enough times to know that they were Bella's life. Her dad was her hero, her mum was...well, everything a mum should be, and her brothers—Jasper, Quil and Embry—were her best friends.

I walked closer, until I was almost right behind her. She didn't move an inch. "Me, either," I commented, struggling desperately to keep my voice light, casual. "I guess we're the only ones, aside from Carlisle."

Carlisle, our director, never went back to the hotel, it seemed. The only time he ever did was if his wife, Esme, visited. She was sweet, and everyone liked having her around, but her jobs—freelance interior designer and full-time teacher—were time-consuming, and she was lucky if she got a weekend off, much less a week or two, unlike Emmett's wife, Rosalie. As a model, she could visit pretty much whenever she liked. Unfortunately, she was your stereotypical model—blond, bitchy, snobby, and a very fussy eater. Oh, and did I mention she hated rain, clouds, wind, and the cold? That's all it ever is during the Canadian autumn. Welcome to reality, sweetheart.

I figured she either wasn't going to tell me at all, or was going to wait until I asked, so I went to sit down by her feet on the other end of the sofa. Then I saw her face. All the air left my lungs in a _whoosh_ and I froze, my eyes unable to leaver her face, and the heartbroken expression there.

"Bella, what the fuck?"

But I knew. I didn't have to ask. My eyes flicked down to to the Blackberry, which she was clutching like a life preserver, then back to her face.

"Oh God, Bells..."

A ragged breath hitched in her throat, coming out as a broken sob. That did it for me. I couldn't take it. I sank down, sitting on the other end of the couch, and faced her with what I am sure was a pained and worried expression. I couldn't lie around her: every emotion showed clear as day on my face, no matter how hard I tried to hide it. "What can I do? I'll do anything. Anything to make you happy again."


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for all the reviews on this and on Unexpected Visitor.**

**I wrote this today while skiving my PE swimming lesson for the second week in a row. I'm pretty sure my teacher hates me; she made me fill out a questionnaire about "How I Feel About Missing A PE Lesson". What am I supposed to say?**

**Please leave lots of reviews, because, as we all know, REVIEWS=INSPIRATION=FASTER UPDATES.

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**BPOV**

I'll admit it, I was a little forward, a little desperate, but my heart had been broken, shattered into a million pieces by the man who had promised to love me forever. So, without thinking, I crawled onto Edward's lap and buried my face in his chest. He didn't push me away or ask what I was doing, he just wrapped his arms around me and whispered, "I'll do whatever it takes."

I hoped he meant it, because it was going to take a hell of a lot of work on his part, and mine, to even begin to fix my broken heart.

He held me all night, letting me cry it out. He didn't speak; he didn't ask questions or try to comfort me with meaningless words. He knew me better than that. He knew what I needed, and what I needed was his presence. Nothing more; it was enough for me just to know that he, at least, was there for me. That he wasn't leaving me. That I was important to him, even if I was no longer important to Jacob.

Eventually, I fell into a dreamless, exhausted sleep, with my head on his chest and my hand gripping the front of his shirt like it was the last thing on earth. Which, in a funny way, it kind of was.

It felt like only moment since my eyes had finally drifted shut when I was jolted awake by the sound of Edward's phone beeping.

It was four am.

God, I felt like shit. My head hurt, my eyes hurt, and my mouth felt like it was full of cotton wool. It was like having the worst hangover ever, times ten. And, believe me, I've had some hellish hangovers in my time.

Edward, who didn't appear to have slept at all, snapped out of his daze and fumbled to turn off his phone alarm. "Sorry," he croaked as he finally succeeded. He cleared his throat to explain, "Coffee run."

He got up and hour before he had to to get _coffee_? I knew he liked to have an Americano to wake him up, but I didn't know he liked it _that_ much.

"I know you can't live without your Starbucks Caramel Latte."

He got up at four am for _me_? _He_ was the one who made sure there was a Latte waiting for me in hair and make-up every morning? And, dammit, I started crying again.

He said nothing; he pulled me into his chest and held me, just like he had all night.

"Why?" I rasped. I knew he was a good friend, and the quintessential English gentleman, but there was _no one_ I knew—even Jacob, even my paid staff—that would get up a full hour earlier than they had to simply to get me my coffee. No one was nice enough—or, I guess, crazy enough—to do it willingly, and the only time I was dumb enough to recruit my assistant to do it, she quit after only a week.

"It makes you happy," he explained, shrugging, as if getting up at four am to buy a friend coffee was the most normal thing in the world.

I coughed a couple of times in a mostly-useless attempt to clear my throat a little; I needed water, because my throat was as dry as the Sahara. I resorted to whispering, "what about the mornings when I have to be in hours before you?"

Edward shrugged. "There's not many of those, but I get you your coffee, then take a nap if I'm tired."

"You're crazy," I whispered, but he just shrugged again, a strange look crossing his face.

"Maybe I am," he agreed, and my heart nearly broke all over again at the private sadness in his eyes. Me and Edward were best friends, and we talked about _everything_, even things that I would never have told Jake, but there were things—like the look I saw just now—that I knew better than to mention. I knew the difference between "personal" and "private", and these looks, these emotions, were private. Edward would tell me when and if he wanted to.

**EPOV**

I wasn't expecting the reaction I got; I'll admit that I had dreamed about Bella doing something like that a million times—though, obviously, under much better circumstances—but I never though it would ever actually happen. Bella, the gorgeous, tiny brunette, the love of my life, crawled onto my lap and buried her face in my chest. Sure, she was soaking my shirt, but I wouldn't have it any other way; you couldn't pay me enough to make me move. Bella was curled up on my lap, and she could stay there for as long as she wanted to. Forever, if she so desired. I wanted to comfort her, and to let her know, yet again, that I would do anything for her; I wrapped my arms around her and whispered, "I'll do whatever it takes." And I meant it. There was nothing—absolutely nothing—that I wouldn't do for her, under any circumstances, for any reason. As I said before, what Bella wanted, Bella got, without question, hesitation, or discussion.

I held her all night; no force on earth could have convinced me to let go. I didn't have anything to say, so I said nothing. It was probably better that way; I doubted condolences or false promises and cliché'd lines would comfort her. She needed me here, and I would stay until she forced me to leave. If it was the last thing I did, I would make her see that. I would prove to her that I wouldn't ever betray her, leave her, break her the way _he_ had.

And over the phone? Honestly? I couldn't believe he hadn't thought Bella worth at least a face-to-face break-up. If was going to be so cowardly as to do it by phone, he better at least of actually _spoken_ to her; if he left a message, or sent a text, then... I allowed my mouth to twist up into a cruel smile as I thought of the way I could get him back. He was deeply superstitious; I would have to do next-to-nothing to make him lose sleep for a couple months.

I knew when Bella had eventually succumbed to sleep; her breathing evened out a little, and her body relaxed. Well, everything but her hand: her had was gripping the front of my shirt like it was the last thing on earth.

That worried me. Was she doing that because she needed to know I was there? Or because she thought I would leave? I ran my hand through her hair. "I would never leave, love," I whispered, softly. I knew she couldn't hear me, but I felt better saying it, anyway.

I spent the night thinking, day dreaming. Not really about anything in particular, but always about Bella—anything and everything about Bella.

I was still reeling from the shock of the news. As much I had selfishly wished they _would_ break up, I had never entertained the idea as I real possibility. Bella and _Jacob—_there, I said his name—had been together for nearly two years, and had known each other for more than five. In everyone's mind—everyone except Jacob, it seemed—it was thought that a proposal was on the horizon. No one had envisioned a break-up.

Slowly, an obnoxious beeping noise broke into my conscious, pulling me out of my thoughts and back to the present.

It was four am.

Shit. I looked down at Bella worriedly, and, _dammit,_ she was awake. Aw, crap. She could have gotten another three-quarters of an hour of sleep. "Sorry," I croaked, fumbling for my phone and desperately trying to shut the damn alarm off. I could see Bella looking at me in curiosity, so I cleared my throat to explain. "Coffee run," I told her. There was no need to hide anything; it was time to lay my cards on the table. "I know you can't live without your Starbucks Caramel Latte."

And that was met by another entirely unexpected reaction from Bella, though this one was less desirable, and far more confusing.

She burst into tears.

I said nothing, pulling her into my arms and holding her close. Since I was at a loss as to what to say, this was all I could do.

"Why?" she rasped. Her throat sounded as bad as mine felt, and I made a mental note to get her some water from her mini-fridge the minute I got up.

"It makes you happy," I explained, shrugging, as if getting up at four am to buy a friend coffee was the most normal thing in the world.

She coughed a couple of times, making me flinch. It sounded painful; I hoped she wasn't getting ill. "What about the mornings when I have to be in hours before you?" she whispered, her eyebrows pulling together in concern.

I shrugged again, hoping to appear off-hand about the whole thing. "There's not many of those, but I get you your coffee, then take a nap if I'm tired."

"You're crazy," she whispered, with a small smile.

"Maybe I am," I agreed, my heart aching. I was crazy to think such a perfect angel would ever love _me_. I was crazy to think we could ever be together.

But that wasn't going to stop me from trying.

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So, yeah, let me know what you think.**

**And, if you really love me, I'd love some reviews on this story: _www(dot)fictionpress(dot)com/s/2896445/1/Dear_Kyle_**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry, it's been crazy. Illness, kids, school, work, my sister's birthday on Saturday and mine tomorrow (March 17th)... You get the picture.  
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**Thanks to those who favorited/reviewed/etc.  
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**But here it is. I don't know if I'll write more of this or not. Time will tell.**

**And, though I figure it's pretty obvious, I don't own Twilight or the characters. Just this plot line :)  
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**BPOV**

I declined Edward's offer for an early breakfast at Starbucks. I had enough shit to deal with right now, without having to deal with psychotic fangirls and insufferable paparazzi at four-thirty in the morning. Edward seemed to agree with my reasoning because, not five minutes after he left, he was back.

I tried desperately to stem the tears that had taken over of me in his absence, but it was no use.

"Bella? Honey, are you okay? Shh, I'm here. Breathe," came Edward's panicked voice. He rushed over to scoop me up into his arms. "Honey, what happened?" he asked, worriedly, pulling me into his chest as he sank down onto the sofa. I situated myself comfortably on his lap and relaxed against him.

I shook my head. I was just upset and overemotional, that was all; there was no reason for the tears except that he had left. I was just being stupid. "I'm... f-fine," I stuttered out. "R-really, just g-give me a, a m-minute." Edward seemed to understand; he held me close and pressed a soft kiss to the top of my head, warming me from head to toe.

"Whatever it takes," he reminded me.

We didn't move until a knock on the door startled me; Edward seemed to have been expecting it. "It's okay, honey. It's just Lauren with our coffee. It's amazing what people will do for fifty bucks."

I stared at him in utter shock. "Fifty bucks?" I mean, yeah, we were both filthy rich, but _fifty dollars_ just to send someone else to get coffee that you could easily either get yourself or live without?

He shrugged. "As well as the cost of coffee for us, her, and my other assistant; I even sent my driver over, just so I wouldn't have to pay for her petrol."

"Gas," I corrected, automatically. He rolled his eyes at me.

"Besides, you need a Caramel Latte, and, after last night, I could do with something to wake me up, too."

"_Why_, though? You could have got it yourself."

"I didn't want to leave you," he said, simply.

And, for some reason, I understood what he was saying. I didn't want him to leave me, either. We were better together, on-screen and off. Sure, we were _good_ separately, but together... together we kicked ass. I smiled; it felt weird to do it, and the still-fresh tear in my heart ached in protest, but for once in my life, something finally felt _right_. "I didn't want you to leave me, either," I admitted.

**EPOV**

I knew I had to go to Starbucks, but I didn't want to leave Bella. I racked my brain for any way to do this without leaving her side; the only option was for her to join me. I knew she wouldn't, but I had to offer.

"Bella, honey, do you want to come with me?"

She shook her head, as I knew she would. "It's four am and I just had the night from hell. I can't deal with fans right now, much less the paparazzi."

I had to agree with her. "Are you sure you'll be okay on your own?" She wouldn't be, but, again, I felt the need to ask.

Bella just slid off of my lap and curled up on the sofa. "I'll live," was her unconvincing answer.

Standing up and walking out of her trailer was akin to pulling myself up a rock face with nothing but my bare hands. There was no way I was making it all the way to Starbucks.

I pulled out my iPhone and dialed up Lauren, my second assistant. I wasn't stupid enough to try calling Jessica this early on her "late" day; she'd quit on the spot.

"What?" Lauren groaned, sleepily.

"Lauren?" I said, tersely. Was she not awake yet? She had to be here in less than an hour, and her hotel was a good half an hour away.

"Oh, Edward, hello," she greeted me, in what I think was supposed to be a seductive tone. It sounded like a dying cat, but that might have just been bad mobile reception. "_Cell_," I heard Bella say in my head; I was so used to her "Americanizing" me that when I mentally corrected myself, I could hear her voice. I was pathetic.

"Lauren, I need you to stop by Starbucks on your way in; I need a Caramel Latte and a Black Americano."

"Starbucks isn't "_on the way_", Edward. It's a twenty minute detour."

I didn't have the time or the patience to argue or bargain with her. "Fifty bucks, plus whatever the coffee costs. I'll pay for whatever you want for yourself, and whatever Jessica wants, and I'll send Alistair to drive you." Thank God that he was staying in the same hotel as her.

Lauren sighed. "What size?"

Thank God. "Biggest you can get. I'll see you at Bella's trailer in three-quarters of an hour." And there was my internal Bella, again: "_Forty-five minutes_," she corrected.

I hung up, and hurriedly called Alistair. "Al, can you drive Lauren to Starbucks, and then to set," I rushed out.

Alistair knew better than to ask questions; he knew he's be getting a huge tip for this. "Sure thing, son," he said. I'll be waiting for her out front in ten. Catch you later."

"Catch you later."

I was back in Bella's trailer before I even had my mobile—_cell—_back in my pocket.

I didn't knock.

Bella was curled up on the sofa, sobbing and shaking. Had something else happened? This was worse than it had been at any point last night.

"Bella? Honey, are you okay? Shh, I'm here. Breathe," I said, panicking. I rushed over to scoop her up into my arms. "Honey, what happened?" I asked, pulling her as close to me as I could, and settling us both onto the sofa. Bella shuffled a little bit, then leaned into my chest, shaking her head.

"I'm... f-fine," she eventually stuttered out. "R-really, just g-give me a, a m-minute." I didn't believe a single word, but I let it go; the last thing I wanted to do was to argue with her. I held her close and pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, consequences be damned. Whether she loved me or not was irrelevant at this point. I was in love with her, and not even divine intervention was going to change my mind.

"Whatever it takes," I reminded her, meaning every word.

She relaxed in my arms and let me hold her until a knock on the door startled her.

Lauren.

"It's okay, honey. It's just Lauren with our coffee. It's amazing what people will do for fifty bucks."

I looked down to see her staring at me in utter shock. "Fifty bucks?"

Was it that hard to believe? I don't know exactly how much is in my bank accounts, but I know it's well into the millions. What's fifty bucks to make her happy, anyway? I shrugged. "As well as the cost of coffee for us, her, and my other assistant; I let her dive my car, too, so I wouldn't have to pay for her petrol." I didn't tell her about the money I now owed said driver.

"Gas," she corrected, automatically. I rolled my eyes at her, fighting a smile. I'd never admit it, but I kind of loved it when she did that. It was just so _her_.

"Besides, you need a Caramel Latte, and, after last night, I could do with something to wake me up, too," I explained, in an attempt to rationalize what she clearly saw as an outrageous expense.

"_Why_, though? You could have got it yourself," she persisted.

But I knew I couldn't have. I couldn't have left her. "I didn't want to leave you," I admitted, before I could stop myself. Aw, damn...

But she didn't look mad. She looked thoughtful, like a light bulb had just gone on in her brain. She looked... happy. Hopeful. And then she did the one thing that made my day. My month. My _year_.

She smiled.

I made her smile.

"I didn't want you to leave me, either," she admitted.

**Love it? Hate it? Let me know what you think!**

**Lots of love, Bekka (AKA SiempreYParaSiempre) XXX**


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